


Reflections of Them

by Zaccari



Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaccari/pseuds/Zaccari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christian is a lot of things, but none of them seem to be what Steve and their friends think they are. But then again Christian and those same friends think Chris and Steve are through. Looks like everybody's a little wrong, doesn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections of Them

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the rpf_big_bang. 
> 
> A huge thank you goes to darling_lisa and chainedinbeads for beta’ing this mess.
> 
> Disclaimer: If I owned them I'd be on an island watching them feed each other grapes. Seriously, not mine. I do actually know this. And my sick brain made this all up, I know that as well.

~Christian’s POV~

“You okay?”

As a sentence, question, whatever, that there is one I truly hate. People are always asking you if you’re okay but I’ve never been all that great at working out if they’re just being polite or they really want to know, so my answer is always the same.

“I’m fine.”

You know - fine. As in fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional. All perfectly legitimate states of being that Christian Kane is never allowed to be. I’m not allowed to be anything other than a walking, talking stereotype, and if push comes to shove, the talking aspect is entirely optional and generally not requested.

Note to self, try to remember that alcohol is actually a depressant and when you begin the night in a very average mood drinking is generally not going to make it any better.

“Hey, Christian, how about we try this again.”

What? 

Aldis is snapping his fingers in front of me and I’m not entirely sure what in hell is going on.

Before I say anything though, I’m putting my drink down knowing I probably won’t be picking it up again.

“Try what?”

“You’re sitting out here, away from the light and well out of view of Jensen’s back deck drinking the same drink I saw you walk out here with half an hour ago. We have a party inside, and Christian outside all by himself. So I’m going to ask you again and this time you’re going to give me a real answer. Are you okay?”

Inside that house are any amount of people I would list as some of my closest friends, but they’ve known me almost too long. If they asked the same question as Aldis, and I answered it truthfully, pretty much all of them would tell me I’ve got nobody but myself to blame. I guess somewhere along the line I became a stereotype to them as well.

I’m also guessing they haven’t yet got around to giving Aldis his copy of the ‘How to deal with Christian Fucking Kane’ handbook.

It takes me a minute to realise the look on his face means he’s waiting for an answer that means something.

“For the most part, I am okay. Or I’ll be okay…fuck, Aldis, I don’t know anymore.”

Seriously, I don’t.

“I’m guessing this is at least partly about Steve, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Partly. Mostly. Completely. It’s all the same in the long run, right?

“Talk to me, Christian.”

For a second I blink, expecting Aldis to have Joss’ed into Dave, because those words almost always come from Boreanaz’s mouth.

But Dave’s got a much longed for, much worked for, baby due and he doesn’t need my shit. And if he ever finds out that I held out on him, well, let’s just say that he wouldn’t exactly see the situation the same way I currently do.

“How much do you want to know, Aldis?”

How much do you already know?

“Whatever you need to tell me to make me understand…as much as you want me to understand.”

“Fuck, man, that’s the whole problem right there in its own little nutshell, I don’t understand any of it myself. So me explaining it should make it all as clear as a window lined with chocolate cake.”

You know, utterly transparent.

“Then just start talking and maybe we’ll work it out together as you go along.”

“You sure you wouldn’t rather be inside, I hear there’s a party going on.”

“Nah, I’m good. Now spill.”

What the fuck, I don’t think it’ll help, but it can’t actually hurt anything either.

“Starting with the obvious, you know Steve and I were together, yeah?”

Aldis nods and I’m relieved.

“It started ten years ago, give or take. He was…comfortable is the best word I’ve ever found to describe Steve. But I don’t mean comfortable in a way that it can be interchanged with boring, or safe, I think I mean Steve knew who Steve was. He knew where he was going, but he knew where he didn’t want to go as well. Steve gives off this laid back vibe, and I guess he is, but he also has his eyes on the prize he has every intention of claiming. How he is draws everybody in and nothing he ever did seemed like he was taking a hairpin turn, it just seemed like that was how Steve was meant to be.”

“You talking about the fact he liked men in his bed, or something else?”

“It’s kind of that, but I guess I’m also trying to explain how Steve is perceived to be my exact opposite. Then again, I could probably state that just by saying Steve is from California and Christian is from Oklahoma.”

I really can’t blame Aldis for laughing at that.

“Now there’s a book that fangirls would put at number one in about a week.”

Yeah, I guess they would. The smile I’m trying to give Aldis in return for his laughter is a little on the weak side though.

“You’re right about one thing though, nobody so much as broke stride when they found out Steve wanted to bat for everybody’s team. But as much as he was a Californian pot loving hippy boy is as much as he is driven about what he wants in life or is serious about his music. And dear god, he may be the life of the party at times, but if he doesn’t get enough alone, creative time, he’s like a toddler who’s missed his nap and Paris Hilton mid-PMS all rolled into one. People were always thinking I used to leave because I was being me, whatever that meant, when in reality it was either walk out and give him his precious ‘me’ time, or kill him. And I’m not a huge fan of incarceration. Steve’s not perfect, hell, I’m not either, and neither of us are innocent, but all in all, he’s a decent man.”

The look on Aldis face tells me he’s confused. My smile comes a little easier this time.

“You told me to just start talking, Hodge.”

“That I did, Kane, that I did. So keep going.”

I keep going.

“Ten years ago I was fresh out of Oklahoma and I looked it. Fuck, I still look it, but I like wearing a t-shirt, jeans and my boots. I like my hat and my baseball caps. I call ladies ‘Ma’am’, men ‘Sir’ and I call my parents that as well when they’re not Momma and Pop. But I was never some clueless hick that didn’t know Shakespeare from Spielberg. I’ve always had a temper that was slow to boil, but lethal when it finally blew. I know I’m stubborn. The other side of the coin though is that when I love you you know it and I plan on doing anything I can to keep you in my life. I’ve always known what I wanted to do and I think I’ve worked hard to get close to being there.”

“But?”

Yeah, Christian, but?

“Pop quiz, Aldis, was Steve the first guy I was ever with?”

I guess it’s time to get to the heart of whatever it is that I’m sprouting.

“If I had to make a stab in the dark from the way you just phrased that question, I’d say no. But from the rest of the conversation I’d also say that everybody inside thinks he is.”

“Everybody does. Including Steve. Fuck, Aldis, I have no idea why I’m telling you all of this, or what point it serves, but according to all of my friends, with the singular exception of Boreanaz, boys straight out of Oklahoma don’t do boys. But Steve wasn’t my first. My first was a guy in high school, his name was Andrew. The first relationship I had was when I was still in college and his name was Julian. Somewhere between Andrew and Julian I told my parents everything and when I got in my godforsaken truck to drive to California I knew exactly who I was and I was okay with all of that. I was comfortable and it was a reflection of that comfort that first drew me to Steve.”

My pause there is just so I can breathe. Aldis just quietly waits. He knows I’m not done yet.

“I wasn’t embarrassed about Andrew or Julian but it was still Norman, Oklahoma and we had to be discrete. It wasn’t shame, it was survival and, fuck, I was looking forward to not having to deal with the secrecy.”

That’s when Aldis shifts a little closer, just resting his thigh against mine. It’s hardly a come on, but it is a reassurance that I need right now.

“There’s a fairly huge but coming soon, isn’t there, Christian?”

“I’m not sure it’s a ‘but’, maybe more of an ‘also’? I don’t know. I really don’t. Steve wanted us both to play the field, so I wouldn’t have a gay crisis, he wouldn’t kiss me in front of anybody but Jensen and Riley because he didn’t want me feeling pressured or hated or stressed into the same mythical gay crisis. Steve, Jen, Riley they always seemed to be waiting for me to have that fucking crisis. I tried to tell them - maybe I didn’t try hard enough, and possibly I just decided to go with the flow – and fuck me if that doesn’t sound like typical Steve, or stereotypical Steve at least. We were together, on a break, not serious, it back and forthed so much I got seasick.”

Knocking his knee against mine, Aldis rolls his hand in a way that tells me to keep going.

“I wanted to stop all the crap and get serious. Shit was changing. Nashville wanted me, not us, Steve was really on a roll with his music though and I wanted something that could be mine, that I could depend on, lean on even. I loved him - hell, I still love him - and I wanted to be able to tell people that, to be able to introduce Steve to my parents as my Steve and when I mentioned that all fucking hell broke loose. Steve started by telling me he wouldn’t make me do anything like that, because if my parents disowned me he couldn’t live with himself. Then there was the speech about we didn’t need labels and I started to feel like Steve wanted me to stay in the closet of his making so he could have his cake and eat it too. He needed me to be my own stereotype and I can’t help feeling like I let that happen. I never told him about Andrew or Julian, never mentioned that Momma keeps asking my opinion of her new curtains and feels thoroughly shafted because her gay son thinks blue is blue and flannel is always a viable option. No, I just moved to Tennessee. Now everybody in that house over there thinks I’m finally having that gay crisis they all knew was coming and isn’t it a good thing Steve never risked his heart.”

“It’s a damn shame Christian has already given his up, isn’t it?”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have the knockout blow.

“Does anybody else know, Christian? How you feel about Steve?”

“Dave…Brandon. Though I don’t remember ever having a conversation like this with either of them. They just knew. Steve never could figure out why he couldn’t win Dave over. What can I say, Boreanaz can be a little protective at times.”

A little protective the same way the Grand Canyon is a small hole in the earth.

“Dude, it sounds like somebody needs to be, because as my momma would say, you don’t have enough sense to come in from the rain when you’re already soaked to the skin.” 

I’ve got to introduce this guy to Dave, because something tells me they’d get along like mac and cheese.

“What am I going to do, Aldis? Walk away and forget I ever knew these people? They’re my friends.”

“You’re sitting outside, in the dark, not drinking, when everybody else is blind drunk and inside with the warmth and the light. Think about the situation, it doesn’t exactly need Freud to translate it, Christian.”

The shrugging is instinctive as I pick up my neglected drink and finish it in one gulp.

“I thought I’d be able to grin and bare it. Turns out, I can’t. Go back inside, man, I’m just gonna call a cab and head back to my apartment. I’ll probably head up to Oregon in the next week or so, after I catch up with Dave. So I’ll see you on set, yeah?”

Without saying anything else, Aldis pulls me into a hard hug and if I’m being honest with myself, and I am trying to do exactly that, I needed it. But eventually he lets go.

As I fish my phone from my pocket and make my way towards Jensen’s side gate, I know Aldis is churning everything over in his head wondering what he should do, if anything. I hope he leaves it be, but I’m done talking tonight and I can’t quite bring myself to tell him not to worry about it.

Mostly because I know whatever he does he’ll just get told that he doesn’t know me and when he does it’ll all make sense.

I’ve never quite worked out what ‘it’ is, but I guess it might as well make sense to somebody, right?

~*~

~Aldis’ POV~

As Christian disappears around the corner of Jensen’s house I pick up the empty glass he left behind. An hour ago I could have bet damn fine money the drink this glass held was more Jack thank coke, but now I’m wondering if he was drinking nothing more than soda.

Christian Kane – anything but a simple rednecked cowboy.

I kind of want to go inside and smash a few heads together and stick my foot up one ass in particular. But I’m not going to. Partly because I don’t have the right, I know I’m the new kid on this block, but mostly because I want Christian to trust me like he apparently does David.

He needs a few more Davids in his life, so tongue biting it is. 

But as I walk back inside, I didn’t realise my teeth would be sinking into my flesh quite this quickly.

“Kane still out there sulking?”

Even before the conversation Christian and I just had, I really wasn’t expecting Jensen to be asking that. He really thinks Christian would sulk like a twelve-year-old girl?

Really?

“Nah, he headed back home, had an early start or something.”

It’s only a tiny white lie.

“Fuck, he could have at least said goodbye. I know Steve wanted to catch up with him.”

Jensen hands me the full bottle of beer in his hand, why I have no fucking idea, before turning to say something to someone and all I can think is Steve’s got fucking light years before he even comes close to catching up with Christian Kane.

~*~

~David’s POV~

“You wind him up too much, Kane and you have to take him back to Oregon with you!”

Yeah, there’s an empty threat if ever there was one because Jaden squeals with pure happiness, Christian pumps a fist into the air while yelling ‘yeah’ and they both start chasing each other around the playground again. They started out playing something that could have passed for football in some alternate universe but neither of them has so much as looked at the ball in the last fifteen minutes.

We’re out here in the park, Christian and I both trying to hide our faces, just in case, under the guise of giving my very beautiful, very pregnant, very bedridden wife a break but my name is David, not Dumbo and I know something is bugging Kane.

Coming to see me and Jamie my ass. Jaden always has been Christian’s cure-all.

It’s another half an hour before Jaden decides he’s going to show his Uncle Christian he can build the world’s biggest sand castle all by himself and Uncle Christian sits down beside me barely breaking a sweat.

“I hate you, Kane. If that was me chasing him like that it’d be five minutes before I stopped panting.”

“That’s because Seeley Booth is about sexual tension and Eliot is all about action.”

“Fucking cocky Oklahomans.”

“Fucking uptight Pennsylvanians.”

What can I say? You tell somebody you love them your way and we’ll do it our way.

“How’s Jamie really doing?”

And it’s Kane with a pre-emptive deflection attempt.

“You saw her, Christian. She’s excited, over it, ecstatic, uncomfortable, over the bedroom view. Basically she’s six months pregnant, on bed rest and ready for it all to be over with and just have our baby in her arms.”

“But she’s good, yeah? Both of them?”

“They’re both fine, perfectly healthy, Christian, promise. The bed rest has done its thing and after everything we’ve been through to have this baby, well, yeah. We could have lived without it, but when you have to do it, for the sake of your baby, you do it. The baby will probably be early though.”

“Early’s okay?”

“In this case, yeah, early will be okay. Mostly because it won’t be fucking scary early.”

“I can’t wait.”

He means it too. This child is going to be the most spoilt baby since Jaden Rayne.

Hell, you have seen what he sent Alexis and Alyson’s Satyana. I never knew teddy bears came that big.

With each passing year it’s looking more and more like Christian won’t have kids of his own and in my opinion that borders on tragedy. Yes, I know he’s a man and can father kids until he’s too old to remember what his penis is for, but I know Christian, he won’t have them if he thinks he’s too old to chase them around the park not playing football for an hour.

“At least with you in Oregon it’s not that far for you to come back and meet my baby girl when she arrives.”

Christian is laughing as he shakes his head.

“You with a daughter, fuck I can’t wait to see that.”

“I’m going to be the marshmallow man. Then I’m going to tell her that anybody that wants to date her has to get through you first.”

“She’s not dating until she’s at least forty.”

“That’s what I’m keeping you around for.”

“You’re an asshole, Boreanaz.”

“No, that’s your job Uncle Christian, remember?”

My only answer is some more laughter. Now, watch me stop that smile in its tracks.

“Catch up with Steve or anybody else while you were in town?”

There you go, stopped it on a dime. Go me.

“There was a party at Jen’s the other night. I kind of thought it might turn into an engagement thing. But I spent the whole time I was there talking to Aldis, then left kind of early. I guess somebody would have called if Jensen finally popped the question.”

Even as Christian is saying it, I can tell he doesn’t really believe it. Or that he thinks the person who would have been calling would have been some random chick from ‘E’.

“I can’t to get together with Aldis again, you know that, right?”

“And you know it’s not like that, yeah?”

I’m nodding because, yeah, I know it’s not like that. More’s the pity.

“He’s one of the good guys though, Dave.”

“Uncle Christian, come look!”

Saved by the seven year old. Sometimes I think my son and my best friend have some kind of hand signal system I don’t know about. 

But Christian goes to look and I just sit back and watch.

For the longest time I’ve sat on my hands and kept my mouth shut when it comes to Christian and Steve. If Chris could let it ride, who was I to get pissed off on his behalf? But about eighteen months ago something happened, or didn’t happen, and if Christian was meant to move on somebody should have given him a forwarding address.

By the time Jaden’s squeezing Christian goodbye as the cab is waiting, I’ve made up my mind. Jamie can see it in my eyes because the front door is barely shut and Jaden has barely moped away before she’s giving me that look.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret, David. You’ll never forgive yourself if Christian gets hurt.”

“He’s already been hurt, baby. He’s still hurting. I just want him to be happy, is that so bad?”

Reaching her hand out Jamie cups my cheek, gently moving her fingers back and forth.

“I love him too, baby, and I would like nothing more than to see him settled on his land in the middle of nowhere with sixteen kids. So I think you’re going to go send Jaden in to watch some Hannah Montana with me while you do whatever it is you’re going to do. Just…be careful, baby, for Christian’s sake and for yours.”

Is it any wonder I love this woman?

There’s no way I can resist stopping for just a moment and pressing my lips against hers, resting my hand gently on our baby. Jamie leans into the kiss, firming it for a second before pulling back.

“Go call Steve, David, before you change your mind for at least the two hundredth time since Christian left.”

If my wife thinks I should do this, I’m doing it. I trust her more than anybody. But I’m still stealing one last, quick kiss before heading towards my den.

I’ve been talking myself in and out of this conversation for about seven years. I don’t know why it’s different this time, but it is.

Maybe it means Steve will be ready to listen, or maybe it’s just that I know I have a sure fire get out jail free card with Christian if this all blows up in my face, I just don’t fucking know. I just know it’s time.

~*~

~Steve’s POV~

My phone rang sometime this afternoon but I didn’t know the number and I wasn’t really in the mood to listen to the voice mail.

And all day I’ve been twisting one thought over and over. Chris was at Jensen’s and I don’t even remember him saying hello. Fuck, I don’t even remember seeing him. Dani told me he was there and right after that Aldis told me he was gone.

Other than that, nothing.

So it’s the fact I’m desperate for a distraction that has me remembering the message on my phone.

_“Steve, it’s David Boreanaz. If you could call me back when you get the chance on this number, I’d appreciate it. Thanks.”_

Fuck.

Seriously, fuck.

Chris’ best friend doesn’t have huge amounts of time for me. I fall into the category of will tolerate for Christian’s sake, and now he’s calling me.

Fuck.

There’s no thinking involved when I push the call back button. No good can come from thinking about why David Boreanaz called me. No good can come from him calling me in the first place.

“Hello?”

Christ, he doesn’t even knows it’s me and already he sounds pissed.

“David? It’s Steve Carlson.”

“Fuck, man, do you have any idea what time it is? Some of us have families and day jobs you know.”

A quick glance at the kitchen clock tells me that when it comes to David I’ve just fucked up one more time. It’s gone midnight.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t realise. I can call you back.”

Or, you know, not.

“No. Fuck. Just give me a minute.”

For the time frame he’s requested there’s nothing but the sound of soft voices murmuring words I couldn’t make out even if I wanted too. But I recognise the sounds of somebody getting out of bed and shutting the door as they leave the room.

Chris never seemed to be able to sleep the whole night through when he was with me.

I never thought to ask why, mostly because I thought I already knew the answer. There’s a lot of stuff I thought I knew when it comes to Chris and why I’ve just realised I didn’t know shit…well, that’s just one more thing I don’t know.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Okay.”

There’s no sound in the silence between us this time. Unless awkward makes a noise.

“When I called you this afternoon I was all fired up to have my say whatever the cost would be, and considering how expensive losing one of my best friends could be, that’s saying something. A few hours later I’m not so gung-ho about it.”

That makes as much sense as some of the shit that’s taken up residence in my brain lately.

“David, we both know you’re not my greatest fan, and this is obviously about Chris, so whatever it is, just say it. I’ll wear any fallout.”

Chris is already avoiding me, I’ve got nothing to lose.

I don’t catch what Dave mutters under his breath and that’s probably a good thing.

“I’m not going to sit here and prattle bullshit about Christian being the love of your life or vice versa. That part really isn’t any of my business. Though it would be nice for Christian’s sake, and for yours I guess, if you could work that part out sooner or later.”

The almost insult rolls over me. Like I said, zero illusions here.

“So I guess what I’m going to do is give you some facts about Christian you should have had in your possession a long time ago. What you do with them is entirely up to you.”

What the?

“Okay.”

One word, that’s all I say, and I’m proud my voice doesn’t crack. Hello pathetic, have we met?

“Mr and Mrs K know Christian’s into guys.”

And just like that the world tilts just enough to throw me into a freefall.

“W-what?”

The telltale break barely registers as the room starts to spin.

“He told them before he left Oklahoma.”

“At C-christmas?”

“Ten years ago.”

The falling stops. The swimming stops. Time stops. I don’t think I’m breathing but I’m still managing to cry. I’ve spent years protecting us both from a dragon that, as it turns out, only existed in my mind.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

Really truly, I don’t.

“Christian knew he was into guys before he left high school, let alone college and Oklahoma behind. That’s when he told them. You weren’t his first, you weren’t his curiosity. And even if you were, how the fuck any of you ever thought Christian would lie to his parents for this many years is fucking beyond me.”

We never thought. Apparently literally.

“I…We…Fuck.”

If some kind of monumental insight into my own mind is expected of me right now I have zero idea of what in hell it’s meant to be.

“Is there any…anything else I should know? Like does Chris have six kids somewhere, or is he dying? You know, something that could be considered important to somebody he’s meant to…”

Love? Care about? Likes to fuck?

Hate?

“I get the anger, Carlson, I really do. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve told Christian he should have told you. But the blame isn’t just his. You, Jensen, Riley you were all just a little too quick to file Christian under ‘Good Ol’ Boy’. You all thought you knew him by the boots he wore and the pattern of his speech. Men from Oklahoma aren’t gay, and they don’t overshare with their parents – do they?”

“He never said any fucking differently!”

“You never wanted him too! If he wasn’t out you never had to explain to him that he was your dirty little secret. Instead you could pretend it was the other way around.”

There’s no way to answer that so I just hang up, and the phone doesn’t immediately ring again which must mean that David’s said all he wants to say to me. Whether or not we ever speak again is entirely up to Chris.

Christian.

Fuck.

All it took was a five minute phone call from somebody I’ve known for years but barely know at all to show to me the only thing I know about Chris is how he likes the thing I do with my tongue when I’m blowing him.

Suddenly I’ve got the feeling I know more about Boreanaz.

Steve Carlson, this is your life.

Does anybody know if there’s a complaint department?

~*~

~Christian’s POV~

If I ever bitch about my job, shoot me. Seriously, this is what I’ve wanted and worked towards since I arrived in California and if I start to moan about it, I no longer deserve it.

But coming home to an empty rental after a day of being dropped on my ass for hours on end, that part kind of sucks.

I see a bath, a beer and leftovers in my immediate future.

Out of the corner of my eye though I see the red light of the answering machine brighter than it should be in the almost dark room. Ignore it, Christian, you have complete permission to just let it blink.

Yeah, except that the only person that’d be leaving messages here is Momma because she doesn’t want to bother me on set. She never quite grasped the fact my cell lives in the trailer and it wouldn’t be ringing and interrupting mid-scene.

God, I love that lady.

It’s not Momma’s voice coming from the tinny sounding speaker though.

“Hey, man, it’s Steve. Your mom gave me this number. Can you call me when you get this? I don’t care what time it is, just call. Thanks. Bye.” 

Okay.

That was unexpected to say the very least.

It’s been a month since that party at Jen’s. That’s thirty days in a holding pattern of my own making. That fucked up conversation with Aldis, and a few more since, have thrown a weird kind of clarity over that part of my life. To quote Daddy, it’s well and truly past time to piss or get off the pot. Because one way or another, Steve and I both need to move forward. 

So instead of an hour long soak in hot water up to my neck, it’s a quick shower. I still grab the beer and the leftovers though. The beer will probably get drunk, but I think the only purpose the pizza will serve is to be picked to death while Steve and I do whatever the hell we’re going to do.

Picking up the phone, I dial a number I think I’ll still remember on my death bed whatever happens between us.

“Hello?”

“Hey Steve, it’s me.”

“Chris.”

That’s me.

“How’re you doing?”

That’s nothing if not mundane, but a little ordinary probably couldn’t hurt us at this point.

“I’m okay. Working on the album. I’m proud of this one…I mean I’m proud of them all, but this one feels special.”

“I can’t wait to hear it.”

Weirdly, after I’ve said it, I realise that I mean it, I can’t wait. Knowing Steve, if he’s impressed, it’s going to kick ass.

“It’ll be good to have a listening party like we used to.”

There is it, the first timid step out of the neutral zone that was anything but neutral in the first place.

“I think I remember some of those parties. I might even remember hearing a CD that was made by the guest of honour. Maybe.”

Steve always has had the easiest laugh.

“They got a little out of hand sometimes, didn’t they?”

“And they seem to be worse when it was just the two of us.”

Sex or no sex, those nights were amongst my favourite.

“I miss them. I miss you, Christian.”

Here we go.

“But I’m kind of pissed at you too.”

What?

“I don’t…why?”

“I found out I don’t much like finding out I really don’t know the guy I’ve been sleeping with. But, like I said, I’m only kind of pissed at you, because I’m very pissed at myself.” 

My brain has started to spin like a two year old trying to make themselves sick and I can’t catch up with it, or with Steve.

“Steve, to be a part of this conversation, I need to know what the fuck it’s about in the first place, and right now, I don’t.”

“I’m fucking angry with you for not telling me your parents knew you were gay…and I’m just as angry at myself for assuming you wouldn’t, or couldn’t, when I should have known differently.”

“Fucking Boreanaz.”

I’ll kill him.

“David didn’t-“

“Bullshit, Steve, of course he did.”

There’s nobody else that could apart from Brandon, and yeah, that’s not going to happen.

“Okay, he did, but fuck, Chris, don’t you think somebody should have?” 

No. Yes. Maybe. What’s a little indecision between whatever the hell we are.

“I guess so, but now what?”

“Pretend I’m clueless and tell me like you’ve been trying to for years.”

“And then what? C’mon, Steve, I tell you and everything is golden? It’s not that fucking simple.” 

“Why not?”

Yeah, Christian, why not? C’mon, you know the answer to this one, so just take a breath, focus and for once in your life say what you actually want to say.

“Because from where I sit some lying by omission is the least of our problems. Forget whether or not I can talk to my parents, you and I seem to have forgotten how to communicate. And I know all the jokes about you being the world’s best Kane translator so believe me when I say I don’t want to hear any of them right now.”

Taking one breath that goes all the way to my toes, I steel myself into continuing.

“It’s like when we lost Kane, lost the music, we lost something. We didn’t understand each other anymore. For the last eighteen months you’ve been dancing a waltz and singing in Chinese while I’ve been playing Scrabble in French and we’re wondering why we don’t fit anymore. We’re not connected or connecting and me telling you something you’ve already been told isn’t going to make it all pretty again, Steve.”

There’s another breath and I’m actually proud of myself. For once I said what I wanted to say, more or less.

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like hell though, because communication breakdowns aside, I still fucking love this guy.

“So what, Christian? That’s it, we’re over?”

“I don’t fucking know, Steve. Did we ever have a proper beginning?”

“Do not fucking start that shit, Kane. Don’t you fucking dare wipe away years, because I know what they meant to me-“

“That makes one of us because I sure as fuck have no idea if they meant anything to you at all.”

“How can you say that?”

“How the hell can I not? Do you talk about me to Sandy and Chris, Steve? Are you proud of me? Do you tell everybody you know that they have to watch ‘Leverage’? Does something happen and you just have to tell me about it?”

“I’m not a fucking girl, Chris.”

Neither am I, but I’m starting to feel like I gave you my balls without realising it, Steve.

“I never said you were, Carlson. But you know something else you aren’t? You’re not in love with me. Not anymore anyway.”

“You don’t have the fucking right to declare shit like that, Christian.”

“If I don’t, Steve, who does? Do you and Jensen want to talk it over and get back to me?”

“What the fuck does Jensen have to do with any of this?”

“He seems to be your source of relationship advice. Oh, hang on, you’re not a girl, you don’t need to talk about this shit to anybody. Including me.”

“You cannot sit there and preach to me about not talking to you, Kane. I’ve just found out after ten years your parents know you prefer Carl over Carla. And whatever you’re about to say, Chris, do not tell me you tried to tell me they knew, because whatever your attempts were, you could have fucking done it better. Did you ever talk to me? No, not when fucking saviour of the universe Boreanaz was available.”

“You only liked it when I opened my mouth to let your cock into it.”

The fact that the dial tone is the next thing I hear doesn’t surprise me. If he hadn’t hung up on me, then I would have been shocked.

But now what?

I could always call Dave and rip him a new one but that’d be hard to justify when I don’t think he’s the one I’m pissed at.

No, that’s either me or Steve and I have to figure out which one it is for certain before I even think about calling Steve back.

~*~

~Steve’s POV~

I hate to fucking admit it, but after I hang up on Christian the first person I call is Jensen.

“Hey, man.”

“Hey, Jen…is it too late? Do you mind if I…can I come over?”

“Since when do you need an invitation?”

I don’t fucking know what I need anymore.

“Not quite what I meant, Jensen. I need to talk and pace and throw shit. If you’ve got a house full of people I’ll go somewhere else to do that.”

That sounds good, it’s just a damn shame I’ve got no fucking idea where that would be.

“I’m home alone, c’mon over. Jose and I will be waiting.”

At least Jensen understands what it is that I’m not saying. I think.

An hour later I’m walking into Jen’s living room and just like he promised he’s waiting for me, the open bottle of alcohol and the shot glasses ready on the coffee table in front of him.

“Hit me.”

I’m not even sitting when the first drink gets thrown back. I don’t taste it, the burn barely registers, and the glass gets slammed back down.

“Again.”

I don’t taste the second shot any more than the first, but for the moment, I’m stopping.

Jensen’s glass is still dry and he’s just leaning back in his chair watching me.

“So, Chris?”

Fuck, if I’m this obvious to everybody else, why can’t Chris see me?

“We might have had a discussion.”

“Or a mud slinging, insult screaming argument.”

“Or that.”

Jen says nothing and I can’t help wondering if this is how Chris’ conversations with Dave go as well.

Somehow, I doubt it.

“How the fuck did we end up here, Jen? Me talking to you, Chris talking to his friends and the two of us reduced to sending each other birthday cards.”

“Shit happens, Steve, people grow apart-“

“I don’t fucking want to be apart from Christian!”

“Since when?”

“What?”

Without so much as blinking, Jensen calmly repeats his question.

“Since when has Christian been somebody you can’t live without?”

I don’t fucking believe this.

“I thought you’d be on my side, Jensen.”

“I’m not on anybody’s side, Steve. I’m asking what I thought was a perfectly logical question.”

“Why is it so fucking logical?”

“Because from where I sit you’ve been apart from Chris for years. I just thought the whole secret thing finally got to you both and whatever your relationship was it imploded.”

My laugh sounds sick and pathetic, even to me.

“Yeah, well, I was the only one keeping that secret. Chris’ family has known everything for over a decade.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh.

I’m the one that pours my next shot. And the one after that as well.

“It doesn’t really change anything though, Steve.”

“Exactly what the fuck does that mean, Jensen?”

“I’m not talking in riddles here. Okay, Christian’s family know, go Team Kane and all that shit. That doesn’t change the fact you and Christian haven’t been you and Christian for nearly two years.”

“I’ve seen Chris. Fuck it, I’ve slept with Chris.”

“Sex does not a relationship make, Carlson, ask Oprah. Sure you’ve seen him, but you haven’t been overly bothered when you didn’t see him either. As for the sex, I guess you both had an itch that needed scratching at the same time.”

“That’s what you see?”

Jensen just shrugs.

“I think that’s similar to what we all see when it comes to the two of you.”

“Then how the fuck did you know I’d had a fight with Chris when I first walked in?”

“Just because I thought you two were over doesn’t mean that I’ve ever seen anybody tangle you in as many knots as Kane can. Besides, when you’ve had a fight with Chris you adopt his speech habits and use ‘fuck’ or a variation there of as many times as you possibly can.”

There’s no way I can come up with a decent comeback to that so I don’t say anything at all. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean my brain stops spinning in an endless circle. Fucking far from it.

Jensen thought we were over.

Does Chris think we’re over?

Are we over? Is this it?

Fuck it. Chris and I aren’t meant to end with all the bang of rice bubbles. We’re not meant to finish at all, but there should always be fireworks and earth shattering explosions because this is still me and Chris here.

“Steve?”

Oh, yeah, Jensen. Right.

“What?”

“Nothing much, that’s just the third time I’ve said your name is all. So want to tell me where you went?”

“I don’t care what everybody else’s opinion about Chris and I is.”

“Fair enough, but I think you’d better take Chris’ point of view into account.”

If I have too. I mean, c’mon, we all know that Chris’ view on the world can be a little…Kane-ish at times. 

“What the hell would he know? He wants me to be the girl in this relationship.”

For the first time tonight, Jensen pours himself a shot and throws it down so damn quickly his voice is still wishing for more oxygen when he speaks.

“I’m going to tell you something for nothing, Steve, and you can do with it whatever you want too. I don’t think Chris wants you to be the girl in whatever it is the two of you have. I think what he wants it to actually have a relationship. A real one where there’s give and take, fuck ups and forgiveness. It’s not about who’s the girl, it’s about just knowing that the other person will be there for you and whatever happens, right or wrong, you can turn to them. You two have never done that. You might have seen what was between you as good but I can tell you, knowing Chris’ upbringing like I know my own, he didn’t.”

“How is the fact that we don’t have the gay version of Monica and Chandler all my fault? He could have said something, fuck it, Jensen, you could have said something!”

How the hell did we even get into this whole line of conversation?

“What was I supposed to say, Steve?”

“Something other than reminding me Chris was from Oklahoma every other ten minutes. I don’t know fucking shit about being from the south, and I had all of you reminding me that Chris wasn’t like me. Well guess what, in a whole lot of ways, he is. Just not when he’s around me. Now if I was David, hell, I’d know everything. This is not all my fucking fault.”

“I never said that people like Riley and me weren’t just as guilty for not reading Chris right, but you know what, Steve? We weren’t fucking him and maybe, just maybe, you should have been talking to Chris and not us.”

“Well, that’s just fucking great, Jensen. Be the fountain of wisdom now that Chris doesn’t want anything to do with me.” 

It does me so much fucking good now. Really, it just put the shit icing on the fucked up cake today has been.

“Yell at me all you want, Carlson, it doesn’t make any difference to me. I’d like to point out that, firstly, I never thought you were serious about Chris, and secondly, I thought whatever you weren’t serious about was over. Then again, whatever I did or didn’t assume isn’t important, you can prove me wrong or not, it doesn’t matter. But it looks like Chris made the same assumptions I did and his opinion is important. The two of you aren’t over? Great, don’t sit here and argue with me about it. Go fucking fight for it with Chris.”

“And if Chris doesn’t think I’m worth it?”

“If you don’t fucking know the answer to that Steve, you aren’t worth it.”

Jensen pours us both another shot before very pointedly screwing the lid back on the bottle. There’s nothing but silence as he hands me one of the glasses and relaxes back in his chair.

I’m not drinking though, just staring into the liquid like it’s some kind of looking glass that can show me my future. It doesn’t show me anything other than a very distorted view of Jensen’s carpet.

“I think I’m going to go to Oregon tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan to me, Steve.”

But it’s not. There is no plan. There’s just me, Chris, and a whole lot of silent praying that, if I trade in every favour I’ve never quite got around to earning, may get me a second chance.

The full glass gets put back on Jen’s coffee table.

“I hope so, Jensen, I really fucking hope so.”

~*~

~Christian’s POV~

All things considered, I would have put more money on finding Santa Claus over Steve Carlson sitting my doorstep when I got home tonight. And I would have lost that bet because it’s Steve that’s waiting for me.

I’m too fucking tired for round two. Or twenty-two, I forget what number we’re up to now.

Still, I’m saying good-bye to my driver and climbing out of the car. Yeah, I’m moving slowly but that’s not all delaying tactic. I’m just that fucking sore right now.

“Christian.”

God, Steve never calls me Christian.

“Steven.”

You know what? As a name that really doesn’t suit him as much as Steve does.

“I, ahh, thought that maybe we could…are you okay?”

No. On so many levels, no.

“It’s been a long day, Steve, and I was kind of hoping just to have a beer, a hot shower, dinner, then another beer and fall asleep.”

Yeah, I had the order all planned out and everything.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Do you, Christian? C’mon, do you?

“No, I don’t. But I’m also not in the mood for anything that involves thinking, Steve. If you planned on hosting a post mortem on us, tonight is just not the right night. Not by a long shot.”

I’m not sure any night is ever going to be the right time for that conversation.

“How about I cook you dinner while you cross the first two things off of your list?”

He doesn’t have any bags, there’s no guitar on the porch with him. Yeah, I have to ask.

“Are you planning on staying, Steve?”

I don’t really know if I mean with me, or in Portland or if he’s just going to disappear back to Ojai after he’s cooked dinner. Not that there’s a car or anything near by either.

“I have a hotel room not far from here, Chris. I’d like to stay for a couple of days. If that’s okay?”

Since when does…you know what, don’t do that, Chris, for once in your life take it as it comes.

“I’m working.”

“I know.”

Any other arguments I could come up with would involve me thinking, and I’ve already said I’m not doing that.

My movements aren’t any less tired as I climb the steps up to the porch and move past Steve to unlock the door to the cottage I’m renting. It’s when we’re inside that I start rambling.

“There are…fuck, I think there’s only have one steak in fridge.”

Laying his hand on my shoulder, Steve squeezes just hard enough to shut me up.

“Let me worry about what I’m cooking. Go grab your beer and hit the shower.”

“Why are you doing this? What the fuck are you up to?”

Maybe I didn’t mean to say all of that out loud.

But I managed to stop Steve in his tracks.

“I’m doing this because you look dead on your feet and I’m not up to anything. I came here to talk, Chris, but even if you hadn’t said anything, one look at you would have told me that’s not going to happen tonight. Can we just not fight for one night? Can everything else just wait?”

Steve sounds as tired as I feel.

“Yeah, we can do that.”

Moving past Steve, I head towards the kitchen and grab two beers from the fridge. Taking the tops off both of them, I hand one to Steve and take a healthy swallow from mine.

“The fridge is stocked-“

“Of course it is, Chris, that’s something you always do, no matter where you are.”

I never thought Steve knew about that.

“Well, okay, yeah, I do. Umm, use whatever you want, you know what I will and won’t eat.”

“Christian, stop, okay? I know we’re not exactly on the best of terms right now, but you don’t have to treat me like I’m somebody you need to put out all your southern hospitality for. Go shower, I’ll cook, and then we’ll eat in front of the TV. That’ll do it for me tonight.”

God, that’d about do it for me too. “I’m just going to go shower.” 

“Don’t hurry on my account.”

“Food, bitch.”

“Shower, asshole. You reek.”

~*~

If there’s a list of things that are almost impossible to feel bad, a hot shower on aching muscles is probably in the top five. Bracing my hands against the wall, I let my eyes close and I know the moan that comes from my lips is damn near pornographic. The pressure could be better, sure, but I’m not going to be complaining any time soon because, like I said, right up there on my pleasure list.

My half hard and thickening cock not so much though. 

Not that it doesn’t feel good, I just don’t know what the fuck to do about it. Okay, I know what to do about it, I’ve been jerking off since I was about eleven, but…but Steve is downstairs, cooking. And I don’t know, well, pretty much anything else at all.

The hot water tap gets turned off, my back screams, but my cock shrivels so mission accomplished.

Of course, that also ends the happy my shower was giving me so I’m getting out and getting dressed into the sweats and t-shirt I brought in here with me. My hair is still dripping down my back when I head downstairs.

“Anything I can do?”

“Nope. But you can sit and tell me about your show, or the weather, or anything else that springs to mind. Do you want another beer?”

The last one only just saw me to the top of the stairs.

“I haven’t eaten anything since I grabbed a sandwich from craft services for lunch, so not right now. What am I going to be eating?”

I like sitting here and watching Steve move about the kitchen. I always have.

“Chinese beef stir fry.”

“Fucking hippy trippy food.”

“Fucking meat and potatoes cowboy.”

If I’m being honest with myself, I like the easy banter too. Steve is smiling like he’s not finding it any hardship either. 

“Yeah, well, you never argued when I was making you steak.”

“That because you seriously cook the best steak I’ve ever eaten. But chicken is a meat too.”

“No, chicken is a fowl, it has feathers.”

“And your point is?”

There’s no way I can stop myself from laughing then.

“I have no fucking idea.”

“Go find something to watch on TV, Christian, I’m ready to dish this up.”

Grabbing two more beers and two sets of knives and forks, I smile at Steve quickly before I head into the tiny living room. By the time Steve comes in there’s some replay of a Sooners game on and he’s laughing as he hands me a bowl filled with beef, vegetables and rice I would gave sworn I didn’t have.

“I had rice?”

“You had rice.”

Okay. I sure as fuck don’t remember buying it though.

“This smells incredible, Steve.”

“Then stop talking and start eating, Christian.”

It tastes even better than it smells and for the next fifteen minutes the only sounds are over excited commentary and very appreciative moans.

The moans are mine.

And there’s not so much as a grain of rice left by the time I’m done and putting the empty bowl on the coffee table in front of me.

“God, Steve, you know your way around food, that’s for sure.”

“Really? I would never have known from the way you were orgasming through your meal.”

I can’t help smiling as I kick lightly at his calf. But I’m not saying anything as I lean my head back against the sofa and just watch as Steve puts his bowl down beside mine. The game is nothing but white noise now.

“You look like you could fall asleep where you’re sitting, Chris.”

“I probably could. But it’s a good kind of tired, Steve. I love this gig. I love the storyline, the people, I feel like I’ve got it right this time.” 

Not that it’s been wrong before, because, hello, Angel had me and Boreanaz, but that was different. This is different.

“What about the music?”

“It’s there, it’ll always be there. I got a lot done on it during the hiatus, hashed out a new deal with a good indy company that’ll actually get my album fucking released this time. And when it does get released it’ll be something that I can tell the whole fucking world to buy because I honestly think it’ll rock their socks off.”

If Columbia had had their way, well, let’s just when it comes to lying, I suck.

“I’m proud of you, Christian.” 

And with just that one sentence the whole tone of the night has changed.

“You don’t have to tell me things like that because it’s something I yelled at you during an argument.”

“That’s not why I’m saying it.”

“Then why are you?”

Because I need to know. I mean really need to know. 

“I’m telling you because it’s always been true. I just thought you knew that’s how I felt before now.”

“I didn’t.”

Steve’s laugh is more a huff of expelled air.

“I know that. Now. Fuck, Chris, you are this person that I thought I knew and I’m not even close to talking about in the biblical sense here. I thought that you were this fairly open, not overly deep person that fell into the what you see is what you get category.”

“You are aware of how insulting that is, right?”

Seriously, I think he just called me a cardboard cutout.

“Yes. No. Fuck.”

I didn’t think I’d be smiling during this conversation, but I am.

“Now you sound like me.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told that before, kinda recently in fact. What I mean is, yes, after hearing myself say it, I’m aware that it’s as insulting as fuck, but that wasn’t how I meant it. Of course, when I say it out loud I’m not sure how else I could have meant it and that doesn’t exactly put me in the best light. Christ, the more I talk the bigger hole I dig for myself. You could at least hand me a spade, Chris, and make this mess over a lot quicker.”

Steve runs his fingers through his hair when he’s nervous. When his hair was longer he’d somehow wrap it around his fingers until I was never sure if he’d be able to get his hand free. Right now his hair is just short enough to be sticking up in all directions as his fingers move back and forth.

“Steve-“

“Fuck, I promised I wouldn’t get into this tonight. I should just wash up and leave.”

“What you should do it just sit there and shut up for two seconds, Carlson.”

The talking stops and his hands stop as well. They end up placed in his lap, his fingers twisted together.

“I meant what I said, I am too tired to break everything down and put it back together tonight. Chances are I’m not going to be in any better shape by the time you leave either. But I think we can answer one question and then I guess we’ll both know if there is going to be a next step, even if we have no idea what that step may be.”

All Steve does is nod.

“It’s fairly simple, Steve. I don’t want lists of what for, how come, or a process of how anything is going to happen, I just want to know, with everything else thrown aside for now, what do you want from me, you, and us?”

I think that made sense.

“I want to see if there is an us. A real us.”

“I need to know your definition of real.”

“Something without the bullshit, or the assumptions. Something where the first person we turn to isn’t someone else because that somebody else knows us better. Fuck, I wish I knew how to explain this more eloquently.”

“Fuck eloquent, Steve.”

“Okay then, here goes. I fucking hate that I wasn’t your first, I fucking hate that Dave knows you better than I do. I want to kiss you behind the oak tree in your parent’s backyard and hold your hand at their dinner table. I want to be your first for something, though fuck knows what that might be. I want to know you better than Boreanaz. I’m jealous and I want the right to show that. Jensen tells me we’re over, you told me I wasn’t in love with you anymore, I want the chance to show you you’re both wrong. I’ve already been your lover, Christian, now I want to be your fucking boyfriend.”

That was strangely a whole lot more eloquent than Steve would ever believe.

“Giving us both the chance to have that is easy, Steve, but getting it, after ten years of various levels of bullshit, that’s going to take a whole lot of work.”

“I’m up to it.” 

“I wasn’t talking just about you, Steve. For all my woe is me shit, I know I’m not innocent here either. We’re both going to have to work at this. And a lot of it is going to be fighting our own instincts. When I need a level head, I turn to Dave, I know that. You always go to Jensen. Changing shit like that isn’t going to be easy.”

Watching my reaction the whole time, Steve unknots one of his hands and places it over mine. He’s not holding on, it’s just there, letting his warmth press into my skin.

“I don’t want you cutting David out of your life completely, though I’ll admit, I have fantasised about it once or twice. Because when we’ve just had one of our infamous yelling matches you can hardly talk to me about it, can you? But…when something like getting the part of Eliot Spencer happens, could I be the first person to know? Or when your parents know you’re gay, could you make me listen?” 

Fuck. Ouch, Christian. Seriously.

“I don’t think that’s asking too much.”

In fact I know it’s not.

“What about you, Christian? In this conversation we’re not having tonight, what do you want?” 

This part is actually fairly simple for me.

“When you want to know something about me, about how I was raised, what shit is like in Oklahoma, ask me, not the Texan. He’s Texan and everybody knows the only things bigger in Texas are the egos.”

“That should be a given, shouldn’t it?”

“Well, only as much as what you asked should be.”

“Fair enough.”

I don’t know what I was expecting to come next, but it wasn’t my jaw cracking yawn.

“Shit, Steve, sorry.”

“Don’t be, you’re tired, I knew that. We’re good, Christian, we’re going to be better. So right now, if it’s okay, I’d like to kiss you goodnight. Then you’re going to go upstairs to bed, and I’m going to clean up down here before calling a cab and letting myself out.”

“Steve-“

“No, this is how it’s happening, Christian. Can I have my kiss?”

My answer doesn’t come in words, it comes with my laying my spare hand on Steve’s jaw, just cupping it softly as I lean forward until my mouth is covering his. The kiss is weirdly chaste, no teeth, no tongues, just soft pressure that breaks then comes back for more.

God, it’s fucking incredible. It’s still incredible when Steve pulls all the way back.

“I’m going to spend hours doing that with you one night when you’re not half asleep, but tonight is not that night.”

Another yawn drives that point home and then some.

Steve stands up, reaching his hand out to me offering me help I don’t really need but is welcome anyway. When I’m upright for some reason I’m moving forward again, but this time it’s to kiss Steve’s cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You will. I’ll even cook for you again.”

“Do you want to come to the set?”

Shaking his head, Steve doesn’t look anything but happy.

“Not tomorrow. But if you trust me enough to give me a spare key and give me a quick phone call when you’re leaving I’ll have everything ready when you get home.”

The spare key is in the desk drawer where the landlady left it, and ten seconds later it’s in Steve’s hand.

“Bed, Christian, now.”

“I like it when you call me that.”

This time it’s Steve that kisses my cheek.

“I can see. Sweet dreams, Christian.”

“Take it easy heading back to the hotel, okay?”

“I will, promise.”

Squeezing Steve’s hand one last time, I don’t say anything else before I turn and head upstairs to bed. I’m not going to have any trouble sleeping tonight. The fact that when I stop at the top of the stairs I can hear Steve moving about singing ‘Here Comes the Sun’ just makes it that much easier to keep walking to my bed.

It’s so much easier to sleep when tomorrow looks all kinds of hopeful.

~*~

~Steve’s POV~

I’m dancing around Chris’ kitchen actually baking and singing along to some weird-assed David Allen Coe song when it occurs to me, how Chris and I can get through this, not to mention maybe making it a whole lot better. I feel like banging my head against the nearest hard surface repeatedly because it’s so fucking simple that I can’t believe it hasn’t occurred to either of us before.

Seriously, are we both imbeciles?

Thank god there’s nobody around to answer that question.

An hour later the pie is ready to go in the oven, I’ve made enough phone calls to get everything to the point where one more phone call will put it in motion, and everything else is ready for Chris to just walk through the door.

I’ve got no fucking idea when that’ll be by the way. He said he’d call, he hasn’t as yet and I know enough about filming to know that my dinner may be cremated by the time Chris gets home. I really hope he’s not going to be that late though. I’ve got to head back tomorrow and there’s a whole lot more I’d like to have settled between us before I leave.

The main one being am…I coming back?

My phone ringing has me jumping like I just saw one of Supernatural’s psycho doctor ghosts. Fuck, Steve, relax already.

It’s Chris.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

You’d never believe both of us make our living from words, would you?

“I’ve got one more scene then they’re letting me go early, so I’ll be home in couple of hours tops. Does that fuck with your plans too much?”

“Considering I was planning everything around you, and you letting me know whenever you’d be home, no.”

Chris’s laugh is easy, and interrupted by a voice that I think is Aldis yelling at him to ‘hurry the fuck up’.

“Cool. I have to go but I’ll see you in a few, just factor in me having a shower before the food is ready. I’m a fucking mess here.”

“Will do.”

Something is muttered that might be a ‘goodbye’, but I wouldn’t bet my life on it. I just know the call is disconnected and I have probably an hour and forty-five minutes to fill in. Yes, I am that organised. I know how sad that makes me.

I don’t have my guitar with me, but I’m kind of hoping Chris has one in his bedroom. He’s forever telling people how he’s not overly great at playing, but he never goes anywhere without one. Walking into his room two things hit me smack in the face. Yeah, there’s a guitar resting in an open case in the corner of the room, out of the sunlight and away from the heating/cooling duct. But what really gets me is how Chris this room is. I mean, he’s only renting but this room could be his bedroom in Nashville, or L.A. Not the furniture, it’s just furniture. A bed, a dresser, a wing-backed chair. But instead of the dresser being covered in deodorant, loose change and a hairbrush, lined up in perfect order are framed photographs. Mr and Mrs K, Jenny and her family, then one of a drunk Christian and Brandon. Yes, I can tell they’re drunk. There’s one of the Boreanaz’s and another of his Leverage family, and, finally off to one side, there’s a picture of just the two of us. We’re not drunk, but we’re not sober either. It was Chris’ birthday a couple of years back, Jensen took the shot. It’s one of my favourite pictures, but it’s also one of the last of two of us alone together.

Great, I came up here for a guitar but now I’m on a trip down memory lane that I can’t seem to put a stop to.

There’s nothing special about the chair, it’s just covered in clothes like the seats in Chris’ room always are, but the bed…yeah, the bed. It’s neatly made, yes, I’m fully aware that Chris not being able to leave the house before his bed is pristine is weird, but what I’m staring at is the quilt that covers the bed. His momma made that quilt and it goes everywhere with Chris. Seriously, he’s a total princess about that quilt. He was always so precious about taking it off the bed and folding it just so before we fell into said bed.

Just once I wanted to fuck Chris on it, or under it. But now I think I’m actually getting that the mere fact I thought of it as fucking tells me why he was so pedantic about taking the quilt off the bed. 

What I wouldn’t give for him to leave it on the bed though.

Okay, grabbing the guitar and removing myself from the realms of crazy stalker land, really.

When the alarm that I set on my watch goes off telling me Chris should be back in fifteen minutes I’ve got half a new song. Of course you know Chris walks in as I’m sitting in front of a notebook with his guitar on my lap.

“You’re early!”

My answer is Chris just looking at me and shaking his head.

“I can leave and come back if you want?”

“No, you can go shower. By the time you back down everything should be ready.”

“I wanna hear that song later.”

It’s been a while since I’ve heard those words from Kane’s mouth.

“Sure, later. But I can smell you from here, go shower, man.” 

At least I get a smile before he disappears. I might have also gotten a one-fingered salute, but that’s neither here nor there right now.

C’mon, Steve, focus. The guitar gets gently put down beside the chair, out of harm’s way, and I’m heading back to the kitchen. There are food related things that need to be done. Mentally I start checking things off of my to do list as I move around and listen to the shower overhead. Pie back in the oven to heat, marinated steaks and potatoes on the grill, and green beans in the microwave. The table’s set, the beers are waiting to be drunk, so I do believe everything’s as ready as it’s going to be.

“Looks good, Steve.”

Damn it, my Kane radar is completely out of whack tonight, I didn’t even hear the shower turn off.

“As long as it tastes good, that’s the main thing.”

Sitting down, Chris grabs his beer and just smiles easily at me.

“It will, you cooked it. I’ve never known you to make anything that tasted like shit yet.”

“There’s always a first time.”

“Not in regards to this there’s not.”

I’m not going to think about any other firsts in relation to Chris, not tonight.

“So how’d everything go today?”

That’s all it takes to get Chris started on what I get the feeling could be an endless supply of stories about Aldis, and Beth, and Tim and well, I think you get the picture. He finally takes a breath when I wave his dinner under his nose.

“I never realised how much like Jared you could be, Kane.”

Chris is trying to look affronted while he’s also trying not to laugh; it’s an interesting combination.

“You cut me, Carlson.”

“Just fucking eat. I slaved over a hot stove for hours for you.”

The laughter is still there but so is something else when Chris quietly murmurs ‘thank you’ and starts to eat.

There’s more conversation, but it doesn’t really amount to much until I take away Chris’ empty plate and replace it with a slice of apple pie that’s on the large side and topped with ice cream.

“You found a bakery in town?”

“No, I found somewhere that sold apples.”

Chris looks at the pie like he’s found the face of Garth Brooks in the crust.

“From scratch, seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Now eat the fucker before it goes cold. And before you ask, yes there’s plenty left over.”

“Fucking sweet.”

Okay Chris has been spending too much time with Riley, but I’m happy that there’s still some Kane knowledge I can take as a given. You know, things like Chris will worship a homemade apple pie. It’s not exactly life changing but I’m taking my starting point wherever I can find it.

The pies gone and Chris is sitting at the table nursing what’s left of that first bottle of beer before any real conversation starts up again.

“Thank you.”

That’s not exactly what I was expecting and I don’t really know what he’s thanking me for.

“Chris?”

It’s a barely formed question that I don’t have to clarify for Chris to answer it.

“I don’t know why I’m thanking you, or not a way I could explain out side of my head, but I just wanted to let you know I…I like having you here, spending this kind of time with you. It’s been years since it’s been like this, Steve. Even if this has only been around for all of twenty-four hours.”

And Chris doesn’t really have to explain his rambling answer for me to get what he’s not saying as well.

“Can we take this to the living room? I’d like to talk about some stuff and I’d kind of like to be next to you when I do it.”

Okay I saw that streak through your eyes, Christian.

“It’s not bad, I promise you, in fact it might be, well, it might be all kinds of good.” 

It doesn’t look like I’ve entirely convinced him but he’s following me to the living room and I can work with that.

When we sit down tonight, we’re closer than we were last night and I don’t hesitate before I’m reaching for Chris’ hand. Yes, Christian has a handholding thing, it’s cute, all right?

“When I was cooking today, I started thinking. About us, about this and, yeah, fixing it isn’t the right phrase but I don’t know what else would be.”

“Me either. I don’t want to forget everything we’ve already had by starting again, but I can’t deal with the shit that’s been hanging around either, Steve. My job may be to act, but I’m so fucking tired of thinking that’s what my life has become as well.”

My hand is squeezing his because right now he looks exhausted in ways that have nothing to do with lack of sleep.

“As cool as Lindsey, or Eliot are, I don’t really want either of them in my bed, or my life for that matter. But I am kind of upset I don’t think I’ve had Christian Kane in either place all that often either.”

“Can we…get past that? I mean I know I’ve crapped on about stereotypes and whined and all that shit but can we just…not forget about it, but if we keep coming back to this how the hell is there meant to be anything beyond it?”

My smile is toned down as much as I can get it to be, because this Chris, with all the words, he’s this private guy I love. In public, words just aren’t Chris’ friend unless somebody else wrote them or he’s singing them.

And half the time he fucks up the singing thing anyway.

“Getting past it would be good because if nothing else the last month or two has shown me I don’t like where we are now and I don’t want to stay here. But like I said, I was thinking today and things were better when we were playing together. Not great admittedly, but better. So how about we do some shows here in Portland while you’re filming? I mean I’m kind of flexible recording and what not, we can schedule them around the show, bill them as Kane, Christian Kane and Friend, hell, call us The Ladybugs for all I care, but as a point that we can move forward from without going backward again, I can really see this working.”

Yes, I’m fully aware my verbal diarrhoea is reaching Padalecki levels, but Chris isn’t saying anything, he’s just looking at me and fuck.

“Christian, say something. Please?”

“How much planning have you put into this today?”

He hates the idea.

“Nothing that can’t be undone. I called Eric, he found a venue that’s got some spare dates and looks good. When it comes to publicity a post on MySpace is cheap and worth more than any Superbowl airtime either of us could buy. But like I said, nothing’s set in stone and if you don’t want to, it was just an idea.”

But if he really hates the idea I don’t know where the fuck we go from here. Other then me on a plane to L.A. or Vegas and Chris will be somewhere that isn’t accessible to me.

“Steve, stop it. I never said I hated the idea, fuck, I’m sitting here amazed that neither of us have thought of it before now.”

That sound I just made? It was pure relief.

“When it occurred to me I wanted to slam my head into your counter for much the same reason.”

Shifting the hand I’m not holding, Chris starts to play in the short curls just over my ear.

“I’m kind of glad you didn’t do that, I like your head just the way it is. Unslammed.”

Me too.

“So we’re gonna do this?”

Chris starts to nod and ends up throwing his head back and yelling.

“Fuck yes, we’re doing this. When’s Eric expecting a call back?”

“He said tomorrow would be soon enough. But, ummm, about tomorrow…”

“You’ve got to head back home?”

God, can’t we keep the hype going for longer than two point five seconds?

“I’ve got time booked in Vegas with Darren, I can’t blow it off.”

Fingers slip deeper into my hair and rub firmly against my scalp. God that feels good.

“Of course you can’t. But I can call you, yeah? And you’ll be back, for these gigs? You are going to tell me what the dates will be, aren’t you?”

“There’s a list of dates on some paper in the kitchen. You’re going to tell me which dates work for you and I’ll work around them. So yes, I’ll be back, and you had better fucking call me. Chris, I don’t want whatever parts of you you think fit with my worldview, I want all of you. Every pissy, cantankerous, stubborn, hyperactive, gentle, loving part of you. Because that’s what you’ll be getting from me.”

“I’ve missed you, Steve.” 

“Then don’t fucking let me get this far away next time. Because you’re sure as hell going to have a hard time getting further than arms reach away from me.”

“How do you feel about making out for a couple hours without taking any clothes off?”

“Will there be orgasms involved?”

“Only when we’re both in our own beds and jerking off. Tonight I just want to kiss you until your lips are red and swollen, holding your hand, touching your face, getting use to the feel of this shorter hair. We went from beer to bed way too fast last time. For this go round, I want some serious anticipation happening.”

“You’re evil.”

“You’re not disagreeing.”

“I’m not that fucking stupid, Chris. C’mere and put that mouth to work, cowboy.”

When I was listing off Chris’ personality traits before, I should have included romantic. There also should have been a mention of kisser extraordinaire because within five minutes I’m ready to beg for him to touch me.

When I leave two hours later just walking towards my car has me coming in my boxers, no touching necessary.

~*~

~Aldis’s POV~

I shouldn’t be doing this, it isn’t my place to be doing this, but fuck it, I’m going to do it anyway.

Christian is randomly bouncing like I would have sworn he couldn’t do, slapping a beat only he can hear on his leg as he paces like a caged lion. It’s oddly cute, but it’s actually not Chris I’m interested in right now.

“Steve, can I have a word?”

My head tilts and points in that universal not here, away from company signal.

Chris doesn’t even realise we’re leaving the room he’s that fucking hyped.

“What can I do for you, Aldis?”

Oh you can not punch my pretty face when I’m done here, that would be nice.

“I know I’m overstepping my bounds here, at least as far as you’re concerned, but I just wanted to make sure you’re not going to be ripping my boy in there in two again.”

Well, he’s speechless. I just have zero idea if that’s a good thing or not. See, now, if it was Christian I’d know to start running about now.

“I…what the fuck?”

He’s pissed. He can’t be pissed when we go back inside or I will be running away from Chris as quickly as these two damn legs can carry me.

“I talked to Christian the night of Jensen’s party, he was talking like he didn’t matter to anybody. I’ve been talking to him since you two set up these shows and now he sounds like he’s fairly sure the sun shines out of your ass. I like happy Christian, I don’t care too much for the depressed version, but if you’re going to fuck him over again, I’d rather it was sooner than later and I’d rather it was now so we could look after him while we have the chance.” 

Yes, I tend to talk a little quickly when I’m trying to get everything out before I get dead.

“I’m sorry, but the what the fuck has this got to do with you?”

“Probably nothing, but it still needs to be said. Your group has been so inbred and closed off for so long that sometimes I don’t think your vision is as clear as it should be. But now there’s a whole other group of people that adore Christian and aren’t connected to the rest of you, well, apart from me, but I’m a whole lot more on Christian’s side of the family fence now than I am on Jay or Jensen’s. All of us want you to know we’re looking out for our boy, that’s all.”

I think. 

I also think that what I was trying to say got a little lost in translation. No, I’ve got not idea what I was translating it from.

“Okay, you’ve got Chris’ back, I think that’s what you’re telling me, but what I’m going to tell you is I’m not going to hurt him again, and if I do I’ll be waiting on your doorstep so you don’t need to look too hard for me.”

“Fair enough.”

That’s all we can ask.

“So who wants to tell me what’s going on here?”

Fuck. Apparently Christian wasn’t as distracted as I thought he was. But before I can open my mouth, Steve’s talking.

“Nothing, Chris, Aldis was channelling his inner David, that’s all.”

That’s oddly complimentary. I’m also impressed that Steve didn’t actually lie to Christian. 

“Aldis, thanks man, but I’m a big boy, I can look after myself.”

“If you say so, Kane.”

I’ll believe it when I see it though. If you could look after yourself we wouldn’t have had that conversation at Jensen’s.

“I do. Right now though, we need to get our asses inside and on stage. You’re doing the intro, Hodge.”

As he walks past me, Steve slaps me on the back, almost like he’s telling me he gets the protective thing.

And when I introduce them as ‘Kane’ I’m telling him I’m going with the trust thing.

~*~

~Christian’s POV~

“Ow, fuck, shit, crap.”

In a perfect world that is not how I was taught to answer the phone.

“Aren’t you glad I’m not your momma right now?”

Oh thank you, God. Because the fact it might have been Momma didn’t occur to me until after the third cuss.

“Hey, Steve. How’re you doing?”

“I’m good, don’t try the smoke screen shit. Why’re you answering the phone cursing up a storm?”

Lying is bad because why?

“I’m a little bruised, and sore and moving was way more painful than it should have been.”

“Would this be my idea of a little bruised or the Oklahoma version of a little bruised?”

That he didn’t learn from Jensen, that he learnt from a shoot for Angel when I couldn’t walk for two days and told him I just needed some liniment. 

“Maybe the halfway point between the two? I’ll need a hot bath and some Tylenol to sleep tonight, and tomorrow morning will make an interesting spectator sport, but by tomorrow night I should be okay.”

“You’re sure?”

I’m sure that by tomorrow night the new bruises will be lost in the modern art that is colouring my thighs right now.

“I’ll be fine, Steve.”

“Which is not what I asked, Chris, but I’ll let it slide tonight. Do I need to let you go soak right now?”

“Darlin’, don’t you know you’re the best thing for whatever aches and pains I have?”

I haven’t called him that for a very long time.

“You haven’t called me that in years, Christian.”

“I think it’s about time I started again, don’t you? I always liked the way it made you shudder.”

“Yeah, that’s right, you break out the ‘darlin’’ when you are in no shape for phone sex, thanks for that, Chris.”

“Says who?”

As a comeback that would have been a whole lot better without the hiss of pain that punctuated it.

“Says me and your bruises. Are you positive you’re alright, baby?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be honest, I’m a rainbow, but the medic checked me out. Marathon’s are out which is fine by me because they were never in in the first place.”

“Running never was your thing.”

“Running shouldn’t be any sane person’s thing. Gyms I get, weights I get, running…not so much.”

Dave tried for years to get me to take it up. But, please, it wasn’t exercise for him, it was a soft porn photo shoot. One day Jaden’s going to ask him why there are so many pictures on the internet of his daddy half-naked. And I so want to be there for that.

“You know it’s your birthday this weekend, don’t you?”

“You couldn’t come up with a smoother transition than that, Steve?”

“Nope.”

This guy always did make me laugh more than just about anybody else that wasn’t under the age of ten.

“Yes, I know it’s my birthday. Momma is not happy that I can’t come home. She understands, but she’s still Momma.”

“I know you, you’ll make it up to her.”

“Don’t I always?”

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t, Chris.”

He’s right, I wouldn’t be me if my parents didn’t mean everything to me. These people gave me everything, how can I not give them all the time they want?

“You planned to have this show on my birthday on purpose, didn’t you?”

I can’t believe that hasn’t occurred to me before now.

“Nothing gets past you, does it, cowboy?”

“Fuck you, Carlson.”

“I keep offering, you keep turning me down with this whole speech about anticipation. You didn’t have your dick surgically removed did you, Chris?”

The way I can feel it right now, blood heavy between my legs? No.

“It’s still where it always was.”

“Am I going to get the opportunity to reacquaint myself with that part of your anatomy any time soon?”

“Maybe-“

“Fuck!”

“What? What’s wrong?”

I’m not panicking. Much.

“It’s your birthday, you sound like there’s half a chance I may get lucky and I just remembered the reason I’m calling.”

“Steve, you’re not making any sense.”

“Jen and Dani want to know if it’s okay if they come up with me this weekend.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“So no sex.”

“Fuck.”

Poor Steve sounds like he could kill Jensen right now if he suddenly appeared in front of him.

“I guess they can come. It’s not like Beth and Aldis won’t already be here.”

“Fuck.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Steve.”

“Like you will your momma?”

“Fuck no!”

Christ, Steve, now I’m going to need to go find brain bleach. Thank you so very much.

“God, when we finally get horizontal our heads are going to explode.”

“I was planning on fucking you against the nearest closed door.”

Steve’s moan drowns out mine. I know why I think I want to wait, but I wouldn’t want to justify my reasoning with a gun held to my head any time soon.

“Trust me, baby, after all of this teasing you owe me a fucking bed.”

“It’s a good thing I have one of those then, isn’t it?”

I know what I’ll be doing in it tonight as well.

“It’s going to be worth the wait, Chris.”

“It already is, Steve.”

The rest of the conversation isn’t exactly anything memorable, but it’s times like these that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

~*~

~Jensen’s POV~

“Is this payback for Aldis getting in Steve’s ear the night of the first show?”

Say what?

“No, this is me taking the five minutes that Dani’s outside smoking with Steve to tell you I’m sorry.”

The look of confusion on Chris’ face might be considered cute if it was there for another reason.

“What the fuck are you on about, Jen?”

“You and Steve. I feel like I made everything worse when I was honestly trying to make things better.”

He gets it now, I can see it in his eyes, but the bewilderment is still there.

“Jen, I don’t mean to rain on your parade, but I think the only people responsible for whatever Steve and I did or didn’t fuck up are Steve and me. If we’d been on the same page, whatever you had to say wouldn’t really have mattered.”

“I thought you were over.”

“That’s okay, so did I.”

There’s an ease about Chris that hasn’t been there in a very long time, and it has nothing to do with alcohol. At least, not yet.

“You haven’t been this easy in a fucking long time, Kane.”

“That’s about as long as it’s been since I was this happy, Ackles.”

The hug I pull him into is quick, or that’s what I meant it to be, in reality we’re both still holding on when Steve and Dani walk back into the room.

“Get your hand’s off my man, Ackles.”

After one last pat on Chris’ back I let go and step back.

“Just make sure you look after him this time, Carlson.”

There aren’t any protests from Christian about him not being Steve’s, or him being able to look after himself, there’s just that easy smile as Steve wraps an arm around his waist.

“Watch me, Jensen, just watch me.”

I will be. I won’t be the only one either.

~*~

~Steve’s POV~

‘Tonight’s the night.’ 

That’s what I whisper in Christian’s ear when my arms are wrapped around him as we stumble offstage. Or I’m stumbling off, Chris stays put to thank Jason.

Jason gets a shoulder bump, I got to hold on like I didn’t want to let go.

I really didn’t want to let go.

Tonight there’s no Jensen, Aldis and Beth will be kissed goodbye at the stage door. There’s no fucking spider bites and Vicoden. No fucking fangirls with their hands on my property. There’s me, there’s Chris, and dear god let there be a bed, some lube and not a whole lot of sleep.

Whatever is between us has gone beyond want, and even need doesn’t give it enough meaning. I require oxygen to breathe, I need Christian a whole lot more than that. This won’t be sex, and lovemaking sounds like it belongs in a romance novel. This will be me and Chris and the beginning of what we were always meant to be.

Us. 

“You ready to head out, Steve?”

“More than, Chris.”

Leaving these shows has never been a quick exercise, and tonight is no exception. But what is different is that there’s no extra beers, no lingering more than we have to and we actually do get out the door without insulting anybody and without me humping Chris’ leg.

Not that a lot of people in that room wouldn’t have minded the floorshow.

By the time we’re in the cab I’m keeping my hands to myself because if I start touching I’ll never stop.

“I need a shower.”

“You’ll need another one by the time I’m done with you, Chris.”

“I fucking hope so, but I’m still having one when we get back to the house.”

“I could-“

“You could but you won’t. I want to get clean in the shower and off in my bed. If you get in the shower with me it just won’t happen like that.”

“Your house only has one bath, Christian.”

The smile on Chris’ lips is pure sex.

“Then we’re just going to have to hurry then, aren’t we?”

Why the fuck is this cab going so damn slow? 

“Hey, Steve?”

Chris grabs my hand, squeezing just hard enough.

“Don’t sweat it. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

He’s right, we do.

Doesn’t mean I’m still not wishing the cab driver would remember what the gas pedal is for.

~*~

The door’s barely unlocked before I’m pushing Chris inside.

“Shower.”

“The guitars-“

“I’ve got them, just go.”

“Steve-“

“Chris, I’m not fucking joking here. Get upstairs, get clean and get into bed. You’ve got until I get these guitars put away to do it. Because as soon as I’ve done that, I’m getting in the shower whether you’re in there or not.” 

Chris is far from stupid, which is why he doesn’t say another word for he’s taking the stairs two at a time. The guitars get tucked out of the way so nobody will trip over them in the morning and by the time I’m at the top of the stairs the shower has stopped and the bedroom door is closed.

The shower I take is enough to get rid of the dried sweat from my body and not a whole lot else. I’m not exactly dry when I wrap the towel around my waist and head toward that closed door and my Chris. So what if the sheets end up wet, they’re going to need changing by the time we’re done anyway.

When I open the door, all I can see is Chris. He’s in the middle of the bed, the sheet barely covering his cock. His chest is bare and his hands are tucked behind his head as he watches me watch him.

“You’ve had to wax recently.” 

“Because I have so much chest hair normally.”

Yeah, no. That’s his native blood coming out.

“You usually have some. Tonight, you don’t.”

“Well, you see, Eliot’s chest did have to be on display, but that was a while ago. This time I did it all for you. I know how much you love marking up my bare chest.”

Oh god.

“You do realise that I could stand here and just knowing that, it would only take about two strokes of my cock to have me coming like a thirteen year old who has just realised how much fun his penis can be?”

“Then don’t touch it and come here. This doesn’t have to be the best sex ever, it just has to be us. We’ve got a lot of fucking years in front of us to get it right, Steve.”

Climbing into bed my mouth goes straight to the last rib on the left hand side, my fingers are trying to touch every inch of skin they can reach as I made my first mark. For some reason this spot always gets Chris whimpering, and if this is going to be as quick as I think it will be I want him just as turned on as I am.

“Fuck, Steve.”

As soon as I realise his mouth is open my fingers are in it. I mouth two inches to the right and start another mark just as Chris starts to suck at my fingers and the way he’s tonguing them I’m guessing he really wishes they were my cock.

The next mark is just below his navel.

Chris’ fingers are in his mouth with mine for just long enough to wet them and then they’re teasing at my ass.

“If you’re going to start fingering me, Christian, get your fingers wet with lube, not spit. Because as soon as you get something up there you’ll have about a minute to replace it with your cock before I’m coming. Whether you’re ready or not will probably be completely irrelevant.” 

By the time there’s a hickey right over his left hip bone there’s two slicked fingers pushing into me.

They’re not moving though.

“Fuck, Christian, please, move them, get me ready.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’ve been finger fucking myself for a month now, wishing it was you, my body knows what it wants and if you’ll just move those fingers of yours it’ll do what it has too.”

And if it burns just a little, I won’t complain. I want to know I had Chris inside of me when I’m on that plane tomorrow.

Chris pushes his fingers forward, I rock my hips back and purely by accident he grazes my prostate. I’m about a second from being too late as I wrap my hand around the base of my cock and squeeze as hard as I can.

“Steve, if you’re that horny-“

“No. Whatever you’re about to suggest, no. I want that cock of yours up my ass and I want it now. Get a condom on, and get it lubed up *now*.”

Those orders have barely been obeyed before I’m straddling Chris and using my hands to pin his shoulders against the bed.

“This isn’t exactly what I had planned, Steve.”

“I know what you wanted, baby. You wanted to make this something I would never regret and that would blow my mind and believe me, you’re going to accomplish both of those. I don’t plan on getting any sleep tonight so whatever else you thought you wanted to do, we can cross that off the list as well. But right now I just need you to hold yourself still while I ride the only cowboy I’m ever going to love.”

Yes, I know what I just said, but I also know that me sinking myself onto Chris is stealing any ability he has so say anything in return.

“So good, so fucking good, I could sit here, just full of you Chris and blow my load all over that chest you waxed just for me, but I’m not going to. I’m going to let you buck those hips up and love me as hard as I know you want too. C’mon, baby, show me how the ride of a lifetime starts.”

It’s a damn good thing his hands are wrapped around my hips, because if they weren’t the first thrust up Chris’ hips would have sent me flying. My hands let go of his shoulder and slide into his hair. 

“More, baby, more.”

I’m leaning forward just enough that the next time Chris moves I’m seeing fucking stars.

“I’ll show you how this starts, darlin’. And I’ll show you this is never going to fucking end. I’m going to love you, I’ll always love you.”

There’s another thrust driven straight into my prostate. God, one more is all it’ll take.

“You’d better be fucking close, Chris…I want it, I need it…fuck, baby, please, oh god, pleaaaseee!”

Yes, it’s a wail as I come, but only because Chris is so deep inside of me that he can’t help but leave part of himself behind. I know I’m coming, I hope Chris is there with me and sweet Jesus this is not how it always was at all.

This is nothing like it used to be. This is what love feels like.

“I love you. I love you. God, I love you.”

It takes me a minute to realise I’m not the one repeating those words like a mantra over and over. Chris is repeating them almost manically as he strokes his hands along my spine.

“Shhh, I know you do, baby. I get it now. I’m sorry I didn’t before, but I get it now.”

The words are punctuated with soft gentle kisses over any skin I can reach without moving too much. I really don’t want to move from Chris’ arms. Well, not any time soon at least.

“I almost let you go.”

“That doesn’t matter, Chris, none of that matters, because this is where we are now, and fuck me if it isn’t an amazing place to be.”

“I love you.”

Now he’s making me lift my head, but I’m only going as high as I need to be able to see his eyes. 

“You only love me as much as I love you.”

His whole body releases as he relaxes at my words. I’ve really got to remember that when it comes to this kind of thing Chris isn’t the strong silent type.

“You’re not tired are you, Kane?”

He lets the topic change without missing a beat. We both know it’s not avoidance anymore.

“That was just the appetiser, and I’m still hungry.”

“You’re covered in my come, and we still have to deal with that condom you’re wearing.”

‘There’ll be more come over both of us before we’re done, but if you move I can take care of the other matter.”

That means I have to move, but as Chris rolls over I remember that his back can be as sexy as his front and I’m curling around him not letting him move back to where he was. 

“It’s time for round two is it?”

Sliding down his back, I don’t stop until my tongue ghosts over his hole. This time there can be teasing.

“Yeah, I’m thinking it might be.”

“Give me all you’ve got, darlin’.”

“Oh I plan on giving you everything and then some, baby.”

Whatever I give I know I’ll be getting back. 

There’ll be family and fights, nieces and nephews. There’ll be love and it’ll amount to our life. 

I can’t fucking wait.

I also know I don’t have too.

Chris is here with me, right now, and nobody’s going to be going anywhere.

It’s only when I wake up in the morning that I realise the quilt is still on the bed.


End file.
